


When in Rome, it Pours (the Haphephobia Remix)

by oxfordRoulette



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Other, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 10:42:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxfordRoulette/pseuds/oxfordRoulette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave waits at a bus stop in the rain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When in Rome, it Pours (the Haphephobia Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feralphoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feralphoenix/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Desert Flowers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/235258) by [feralphoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feralphoenix/pseuds/feralphoenix). 



The smell of wet city blacktop didn't stank hard enough to cover up the musk wafting from Dave's discarded shoe. His nose hairs were acting as reversed bouncers, locking the drunk nasty trash in the classy club known as "Dave's Nostrils." The scent of the rain wasn't making it through and fuck him if he would let some sock atom chump vomit all over his olfactory dance floors. He wanted some little dude to go in there and shoot them away, like that one episode of the Magic School Bus, where Ms. Frizzle sends her lolicon bitch squad to take down all the skunk particles in some chick's nose.

Sweat was trapped between his head and the crack on the plexiglass side of the bus shelter. He turned so that his knees dangled off the end of the black bench and the back of his head sloped with lazy incline towards the wall. City lights twinkled through the ruffled plastic roof, the rain forming frothy peaks between the texture and sloshing off into a puddle southwest of his hips. The ticking of nature's wet metronome was too irregular to rap to, but he mumbled a few "yeah"'s and "uh"'s and tried anyway.

"I got a suggestion to say  
to all ya'll listening  
all you raindrops, and shoe stanks, and that taxi passing by  
my sock is wet  
it should dry  
this rap is dropping like-"

"A dead animal."

He stretched his neck in the jerk to attention. He rubbed the back of his coif where a few hairs were ripped out by the cold, tight, wet crack of the plexiglass.

Kanaya Maryam was half in, half out of the bus shelter, her umbrella breaking the beat he dueted with only the illest of lyrics. She wore a party dress worthy of Porrim and/or an upper-class hooker-- something that said "I Am Currently Romancing Women Far More Refined Than You And You Probably Don't Have Enough Money To Afford Even A Single Stroke Of The Kickin Kanaya Chicken Choker But Feel Free To Admire My Nighttime Coordinate And Take Notes." Her subtle slouch, of course, was still present, always hanging behind those plush curtains of class she put up around herself. But, tonight she was almost as straight as Dave's perfectly cool and flat-lined mouth.

"Dave, you did not have to shout with surprise," she said. "You made a silly face when I contributed to your slam poetry. Didn't you notice me standing in front of you?"

Dave moved his shoeless feet off the bench and patted the seat to the right of him. "Precautionary measure. I can't be sure that you aren't a doppelganger vampire rapper babe until I give a holler. I'm like a dolphin, I need to use echo location to see your true form."

She crumpled her umbrella, getting the tips of her hair wet with careless gesture. She sat next to Dave, a slight smile folding little dimples in her cheeks. Dave shifted away a bit, her thigh was colder than a witch's tit and he didn't really want all of that in his business. "What's got you in a good mood? Chainsaw something nice? Make a new outfit? Finally sucked the blood of Kid Rock like I've been telling you to?"

"Since I have not taken your suggestion of tasting that 'good country cooking' as of yet, I assure you I am smiling for a different reason. I am happy because Rose Lalonde is a perfect and beautiful woman."

Dave thought about replying to this with a quip about "Mountain Ways," or even a incest flavored joke about his dick, but all that slipped from his lips was a slow, decided, "Groooooossssssss..."

"Rose," Kanaya continued, "is an absolutely wonderful human who indulges me in conversation and holds my hand when we read and participates in gardening activities even though she likes to keep her skin pallid but I just made her a large brimmed sunhat to fix that issue. And Vriska is a perfect moirail who lets me dress her up in suitable bedazzled jean jackets and faux leather rock star ensembles. And John... Well, John isn't really involved with me quadrant-wise but he's nice to have around too I guess."

And she went back to smiling.

Dave narrowed his eyes, an effect that didn't accomplish anything due to the fact it was dark... and he was wearing sunglasses. His eyelids were pushed together by the forces of 'happy relationships' and 'uncalled-for rambling about positive emotions' into sarcastic coin slots. The only thing he had to brag about relationship-wise was the erotic fanfiction Jade wrote about him and Karkat, and while that was a great thing to staple to Equius' door and watch the waterfall of sweat flood the NEIGHboorhood, it didn't even compare to the orgy porgy ford and fun Kanaya performed. She was truly living the life, while Dave was livin' the weird pothead neckbeard wet dream of a four way with two aliens and a furry. 

What troll death god of romance led him to this place? A nice monogamous relationship was all he wanted, a white picket fence, 6 dozen spawns of his loins, a trophy wife and thousands of TV dinners. He wanted his favorite son to be on the football team and that kid's bitchy teammates would egg his house and Dave would spray them with a hose. His lovely hunny would make him vaflers naked and prepare the Folgers coffee. That's what was in the commercials and that's undeniably how he wanted to live.

But he got caught in three different half knit scarves like a kitten in a yarn store. The green scarf craved to be worn and touched and he just couldn't bring himself to do it because he's a scardy cat afraid of being pet. The red scarf kept trying to gently strangle him like a gay Turkish oil wrestler and kept losing threads. And the teal scarf... Well, it used to go real nice with that suit of his, but the color faded a little. Put all those together and you had some sort of failed knitting mess and a dead cat stored in a trunk belonging to a grandma who was ashamed of her early work.

"Dave, are you alright? You've been mumbling. How much have you been drinking? Why are your shoes off?"

"Because they're as wet as my Ukranian wives."

Why does Kanaya get happiness? Because she has literally the two luckiest people in the universe gambling for her? No, it's because Kanaya can manage her love life, while Dave Strider, playboy extraordinaire, can't even configure the mechanics behind a fucking hug. It's like Jade's body would freeze him solid, or Karkat's body was lava, or Terezi was made of knives... Okay, if she wasn't already made of knives, but that's his go-to comparison and his metaphors have been slipping lately.

He felt a chill near his hand.

Huh?

Was Kanaya trying to do that bro-hand-hold thing that appears in all the dramatic B-grade animes? 

Gentle fingers pressed against his own digits, parting them like the Red Sea and rushing into the gaps faster than the Israelites. Their palms were flat on the plastic bench, stamping little imprints of texture in the heels of their hands. He shuddered, the veins near his knuckles snapping up and looking blue against her dark skin. Kanaya's curious eyes stared into his own black voids.

Her skin was soft like Karkat's. The boy didn't go outside or do any labor at all and was as smooth as a baby's ass. But Kanaya had her nails sharpened to points worthy of a French fiction femme fatale and they pecked against Dave's skin like doves.

He pulled away because cool kids can't hold hands. Besides, those were the hands that fucked his sister, and that's gross. The city lights blazed in front of him, warped by the rain and neon in this dark night.

"I'm sorry for bringing that up, I know you're having, um, troubles." Her envelope purse shifted in time with the waves of awkward caring in her voice. "But, I'm here for you, Dave. I'm your friend, and sometimes it's nice to talk to a friend. If you are so inclined."

Dave closed his eyes and listened to Kanaya's ruffling dress accent the noise of the urban tempest. He inhaled deeply, his nose filling up with the hustle of the city. The rain smelled like spring.


End file.
